


Bean sídhe - Missing moments and side pieces

by KalendraAshtar



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6516019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KalendraAshtar/pseuds/KalendraAshtar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Material that complements the main fiction - Bean sídhe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

***Missing moment Chapter 2, Claire's POV***

He was astoundingly brave, she had to admit. During all the time she had spent tending his wounds, his lips were always firmly sealed to avoid crying out, the slight tremor of his body being the only thing that betrayed his pain. That and his eyes. Those transparent and disarming blue eyes.

She watched him as he slept, as she had promised, too afraid to let go of his hand. He seemed so helpless and vulnerable, all his defences stripped out by pain and the confessions they had shared. Even though she was the one taking care of him in the quiet hours of the night, for the first time in a long time, she actually felt safe. There was something about him that compelled her, a likeness of their souls that made her feel understood, but also very much afraid – that someone could see through her with such easiness was an alarming thought.

He knew loneliness, like her – his vulnerable strength talking about it had disarmed her. And when he told her “ _They’re not mine. And I’m not theirs”_ , it was like hearing an echo of her own life and the desire to belong had settled around her heart like an ivy, pressing and demanding.

Jamie was beautiful, but not beautiful in an almost feminine way – he was a man _alright_ – she thought, admiring his face with his long nose and remarkable cheekbones, his muscled arms resting against the linen, where his chest was barely hiding. He was graceful, and yet there was something very raw and masculine in the way he behaved and even in the smell of his body. She slightly leant towards him and, feeling a mixture of excitement and guilt, inhaled the muskiness of him.

He moved restless in his sleep and gripped her harder, moving their united hands to his chest, close to his heart. She could feel the rhythmic beat on the tip of her fingers, solid and bold.

_“When I’m there I have to hide some parts of who I am_.” He had said, talking about his clansmen.

“Would you hide from me?” She whispered to his unconscious figure. “Would you let me _see_ you?”

Why did he felt so familiar to her? From the moment she had seen him lying on the muddy ground, injured and battered, she had felt a connection that couldn’t be explained by the usual empathy for a patient. She had seen the troubled and enigmatic glances he had sent her, when he thought she wasn’t looking. Claire’s eyes were piercing his sleeping head, willing him to reveal to her every thought that resided there. Was he dreaming of her? Was there another woman that filled his dreams and desires?

_“I’ll also know when someone is right”_ She had said. And she was starting to believe it to be true.

“Are you the reason I came?” She asked in a murmur, darkness sheltering her from fear. Fear of something so immense that could crush her or save her, depending on her choices.

She observed in wonder as he moved again in his sleep, a soft smile forming on his lips like an answer and she longed to watch him smile forever.


	2. Chapter 2

***Missing Moment in Chapter 6 (Claire's attack)***

 

“Surrender to me, _Bean sídhe_.” Ivor said, with a grin of yellow teeth. “Give yerself to me and I shall bathe ye in gold and jewels, when all the Highlands are under my command. Ye will be feared and honoured when I make ye my queen.”

Claire’s eyes were darting between the men surrounding her, trying to devise a breach in the menacing faces. A dry laugh escaped her lips, hearing him declaring his intentions.

“I already bathe frequently enough, thank you. A concept that is definitely foreign to you, sir.” She answered dryly, her eyes narrowing in the direction of his filthy shirt. “Besides, I have no interest in being honoured and certainly not feared.”

“What can I offer ye, then?” Ivor’s dark eyes were measuring her, intimidating her into submission. “What do ye want?”

“I already have what I want.” She said, the hand in her pocket closing furiously around her _sgian dubh_. “There’s nothing that you could give me that would make me lie with you.”

“Even Red Jamie’s head?” Ivor asked, his ugly smile widening. “The lad is something to ye, is he not?”

Claire breathed slowly, trying to force the paralyzing fear out of her lungs.

“James Fraser will lead the clans.” She stated clearly, impulse driving her bold words. “And there’s nothing you can do to change it now.”

She had been expecting it, but the impact of his angry fist on her eye came fast and furious, surprising her nonetheless. Her eyesight was suddenly gone from the brutal blow, darkness sprinkled with millions of colourful and incandescent stars, which existed only in her head. For a fraction of time she was thankful that pain hadn’t found her, until the mighty throbbing began, so intense that a wave of nausea washed through her like a relentless storm at sea.

Claire had no notion of the position of her body – she could be upside down or even buried under the ground, all her landmarks thorn apart - but her fist was still clenched around her blade and she held on to it, ignoring the mild cut the edge was leaving in her palm, knowing that she had to fight for her life.

He came over her, like she knew he would, his hands closing around her neck in deadly embrace. She could smell the breath of his decaying teeth, bitterly pungent, that only enhanced her nausea.

Gathering all her strength she twitched and almost blindly drove the _sgian dubh_ through his arm, his howl the best indication that her aim had been good, drops of warm blood splattering her face and chest. He let go of her in reflex and she quickly crawled on hand and knees away from him, struggling to see where she was going. The men behind them were screaming and beginning to move, like an angered hive of bees in her pursuit.

With a leap like a gazelle, she began running almost blindly, her eyes seeing scarcely more than shadows and greyish forms. Her skirts here heavy and she craved for the freedom of a pair of trousers, air coming inside her lungs like a blazing spear, pain settling in her left flank.

She kept running, deep down knowing that there was no place safe enough for her now, but content with the idea of not surrendering. In the back of her mind was a futile hope that Jamie would be back in time, at least to say goodbye to her.

Claire was beginning to see more clearly from her functioning eye, while the other was swelling at an alarming rate. Her cottage was within sight, Bathsheba peacefully munching on her usual spot, the racket drawing her attention from the hay she was chewing. 

When she felt hands gripping her, a surprised scream escaped her mouth.

“Bitch!” Ivor grunted, a violent slap sending her reeling to the ground. “Whore!”

His fingers wrapped up on her hair and he effortlessly began to drag her to the house, ignoring her screams and curses, tears of pain flooding her face like an unstoppable river.

“Teach the English bitch her lesson.” Ivor commanded to two of his men accompanying him. He took a linen bandage from the table and sat down, wrapping it around his bleeding arm.

His men were quick to oblige, beginning what Claire knew was only the foreplay to her real punishment. They slapped her and kicked her repeatedly in whatever part of her body their boots were lucky enough to land, her arms desperately trying to protect her head from being cracked like an egg’s shell. During that time Ivor was watching, calmly drinking from her own jug of cider.

When he finally got up and approached her, anger and scorn burning in his dark eyes, like coals on fire, Claire knew she was dead. What followed was a torment like Dante’s Inferno, his fists battering her already tender and swollen skin. Flashes of images were displayed in her brain like a strange and senseless movie, memories of her old life interspersed with images from the last few days, Jamie’s face more clear than anything else. She tried to go to him, to hide from pain and reality in some place of her head where only he existed, but her torment was too real and immediate to allow her escape.

“Please…” She whispered, when he stopped to drink again. “Please, stop. Jamie will kill you for this.”

He came over her and kissed her on the lips, tasting her blood and tears, a kiss as invasive and brutal as his blows. Afterwards he looked her closely in the eyes and then spat on her face. This new indignity awoke her fury and she kicked and screamed like a woman possessed, until he punched her in the stomach, making her temporarily slide into oblivion.

When reality became present again, she felt his cold blade on her skull, locks of brown hair scattered around her. His dirk kissed her thin skin and blood yield from the cut, making her cry in pain and loss. Ivor gripped her chin in his hand, his other hand exhibiting the remains of Claire’s hair.

“Tell Red Jamie to come and claim it back.” He said. “Tell him I’m waiting.”

He let go suddenly, her head crashing against the floor. Ivor turned his back on her, barking commands to his men.

“I curse you.” She wheezed to his silhouette. “Everything you want will never be yours. You shall end up with your head placed on your hands, and I shall be the one to put it there.”

When the fire started to burn, the crackling noise almost a comfort to her tired senses, she wasn’t touched by it.


	3. Chapter 3

***Missing Moment in Chapter 6, Claire's POV***

 

_“_ _And then I’ll come back to ye, Bean sídhe.”_ He had said, his hand nestled in the curve of her breast.

He called her _Bean sídhe_ , but not with the fear and cold reserve most people put to the term. For him it meant something else, like a secret they shared, precious to him. Jamie used it in affection and love and her heart warmed just to hear him say it in his Scottish lilt. He knew who she was and accepted her unconditionally.

Claire was still contemplating the path long after Jamie had vanished, beautiful and commanding at the back of her mare. She slowly breathed the scent of mint and sage that bloomed from her small garden, enjoying the warm touch of the greeting sun. She missed him already, but knew he had to go – he owed it to himself and the memory of his father, and had to deal with his unsolved problems with the MacKenzie clan.

She entered her cottage and began the process of cleaning the never-ending dust and tidying her bottles and herbs. But her gaze kept being stubbornly attracted by the unmade bed in the corner.

Jamie had called her _Bean sídhe_ when they were moving together in passion and at the time the word was full with desire and lust, like he was calling her _real_ name, not her earthly name,  the one that could imprison her to him like the ancient believed.

She sat on the edge of the bed and lightly touched the bedclothes, the place where Jamie’s body had rested still retaining his shape, warmth lingering bellow her fingers. She smiled and laid down like she had, facing him, the smell of their bodies and their love combined to form an arousing new fragrance.

Making love to him had been so different from her previous experiences with Frank; Jamie knew very little of the mechanics of laying with a woman, but he had good instincts and his heart had been in the right place. He wished nothing more than to please her, to hear her sob and moan his name, and had exposed all of himself in the process. Frank had been sophisticated and skilful; yet she could always sense a space that was only his, which he never allowed her to see, a reserve that forbade a complete connection. Jamie had made love not only with her body, but with her heart and soul, and the depth of their mutual understanding was something she was just beginning to realize.

She had asked for it; and he had surrendered to her. When his body was so close to hers, air became irrelevant, for his touch kept her alive and breathing. Claire rolled in bed, daydreaming about the next time she would kiss him, her fingers entangled in his red hair, melting into him and laughing in turns.

And sometimes he called _Bean sídhe_ in reverence, acknowledging her wisdom and her strangeness, and in his voice was the promise of a home in his heart.

“ _Bidh gaol agam ort fad mo bheatha, thusa’s gun duine eile_.” He had said that morning, holding her in his arms, thinking her asleep. But she was wide awake and had enough Gaelic to understand his every word. _I will love you my whole life, you and no other._

 


	4. Chapter 4

***Missing Moment between Chapter 11 and 12***

“Do all women get sae grumpy when they’re pregnant, do ye think?” Jamie asked, peeking to Claire’s face. He was holding her head while she surrendered to a bout of morning sickness in her chamber pot. She grunted and picked up the linen towel he offered her, slapping his helping hand in the process as punishment for his bold remark.

“Do all men make such useless and ridicule remarks to their pregnant wives, do you think?” She answered coldly. Jamie clicked his tongue in humour and helped her walk to the bed. Claire laid down slowly and remained very still, like a figure in a thumb, while Jamie stretched beside her, trying to move the bed as little as possible. It was very early in the morning, light still scarce, the world outside still wearing a mantle of night and mist.

A comfortable silence fell between them, as Claire took slow and deep breathes to calm the nausea, all her focus directed to her revolted insides. Jamie was laying on his side, watching her.

“I think it’s alright now.” She finally said, after a while. “The worst part is over.” She gave him a weak smile. “I’m sorry if I’m being a horrible little woman with this.”

“Ach!” He gave her one of those characteristic Scottish sounds of disapproval. “Ye’re entitled to make me suffer a bit with ye, _mo nighean donn_.”

“Am I?” Her smile widened, while she rested her hands on her small bump, still accessing the wisdom of employing greater movements. “Well, I’m thinking that during labour, I’ll definitely curse you and your cock several times.”

“Hmmm.” Jamie gave her a side look. “I ken ye’re not sae magical as some think, but I’d prefer if ye’d keep my cock out of it. Besides it’s in yer best interest anyway, ye ken?”

“Well yes,” Claire retorted, gently rolling to her side to look at him, face to face. “But enjoying myself too much with it…that’s the reason I’m _like this_ , is it not?”

Jamie laughed and caught her hand, kissing her palm. For some time he studied her fingers with interest, his blue eyes travelling through the lines marked there, until he entwined their fingers together.

“I’m scared, Claire.” He whispered. “That I won’t see the birth of our child. I dinna mean that I’ll die,” He added quickly, seeing her look. “Just that maybe…I won’t be there when the time comes.”

Claire measured him for a moment, her amber eyes piercing his own.

“Even if you’re not,” She said softly. “We’ll have a lifetime together, the three of us.” She tenderly caressed her bump. “Maybe even another child in the future.”

“I think I’d like that.” Jamie smiled, a dreamy softness taking over his features. “Growing up with siblings I can see how a bairn needs a brother.” He stroked her head, where her brown hair was starting to appear again. “The love of a brother is…different, ye ken? Stronger than the bonds of other family. It’s not only blood,” He licked his lips, trying to explain his thoughts. “But to grow together. To see a lad without his front teeth, his first climb to the highest branch of a tree, his first ride on a real horse and then hear him talk about the first lass who made him realize that maybe lasses aren’t _that_ bad… Ye’ve seen their whole life happening at the same time as yours. It’s a family member made friend, ye ken?”

“You miss them a lot,” She touched his face, stroking the corner of his mouth. “Don’t you?”

“Aye.” He nodded. “I miss them the most. I wish they were here to meet ye and share our happiness.” Jamie smiled and leant to kiss her on the forehead. “They would like ye a lot, _Bean sídhe_.”

“Even with my…. _Englishness_?” She asked, raising her eyebrow. “I’d think they would prefer a good Scottish wife for you, my lad.”

“At first they’d like ye mainly for who I am when I’m with ye.” He conceded. “But later they’d like ye for yerself….English or not.” Jamie kissed her mouth, his thumb tracing the outline of her bottom lip.

“I’ll give you a family, Jamie.” Claire said against his lips. “You’ll have that again.”

“Do ye think I’ll be a good father?” His big hand rested open on top of hers, a solid and pleasant comfort against her belly.

“The very best.” She said seriously. “I expect you’ll be the one who behaves like them, plays along and generally spoils our children, leaving me to set the rules and distribute punishment.” She laughed and her giggle quickly turned into a shriek after Jamie found her sensible and ticklish spot just below her ribs.

“I do love our bairn, _Bean sídhe_.” He said some time later, his head nestled in the soft curve of her belly, while she stroked his flaming hair with her skilled fingers. “As I love ye. For he is part of ye now and yet he’ll also have something of me. I can barely see yer stomach and I’m already bursting with love, so I expect that as yer belly gets bigger, and I can feel the child moving inside it, I’ll just find a way to love even more, even if it seems impossible now. Our love made a whole person, _mo nighean donn,_ and I canna think of a miracle greater than that. _”_

Jamie kept rubbing her abdomen until she eventually felt him surrender to sleep, a solid weight against her, his hand possessively wrapped around the promising swell.

“Dreams made flesh.” She whispered, her small family a talisman kept in her heart.


End file.
